The Many Faces of Jack: V-Day Edition
by SkyeRose
Summary: Jack in a white coat with a stethoscope thrown casually around his neck. Jack in white scrubs. Lots of Jacks in white scrubs. Jacks in gowns. Jacks in beds. Jacks sleeping and Jacks checking charts. Jacks in every nook and cranny.-A little doohhickey mishap and Sam is seeing stars-or, rather, Jacks! Happy Valentine's! SamJack fluff
1. Pretzels and Beasties and Jacks! Oh My!

**The Many Faces of Jack: V-Day Edition**

**Chapter One: Pretzels and Beasties and Jacks, Oh My!**

**A/N: Happy Valentine's, guys! I'm going to put myself out there a little—at the risk of being very sad and hurt—but I want to ask you to be my Valentine! Please say yes! And also, don't tell my boyfriend. Or RDA…still holding out hope there.**

**This is a silly little fic (probably two or three chapter only), full of fluffy Valentine's fun!**

**Enjoy!**

Sam Carter was a woman of many things; brains, brawn, babble (of the techno variety)—she liked books, movies, some sports, some games, coffee (_loved_ coffee), blue jell-o, cake, science, math, machinery, online shopping…the list went on.

What had never—and would never—appear on that list, was Valentine's Day. Sam wasn't bitter, she hated Valentine's whether she had a special someone to share it with or not. It was just the idea of such a blatant 'paper and prevarication' holiday…she would eat chocolate and smell flowers whenever she damn well pleased, thank you very much.

She was not, however, so high and mighty as not to have admitted to herself some extra disappointment in the holiday since coming to work at the SGC. Half the time, she was offworld and therefore off the hook. The other half…well, let's just say Daniel's secret stash of chocolate covered pretzels mysteriously diminished throughout the day.

What? They were salty goodness _and_ she got to lick chocolate off her fingers after.

Or someone else could…

Nope. No. 'Screeeeeeech' go the metaphorical breaks as Sam curbs that thought as soon as it occurs. Also not an uncommon occurrence for on-base Valentine's. Or any other day on base. Or off base. Or ever.

Okay. The metaphorical breaks clearly need a tune up.

Grumbling to herself, Sam set down her latest doo-hickey a little harder than she intended. Which was probably a mistake. Actually…it was most definitely a mistake. Staring at the little piece of machinery with equal parts fascination and horror, she watched as it emitted little sparks and began to smell like something akin to her bike when she started burning off excess oil.

That probably wasn't good.

Sam took an indulgent second to sit and stare and think. Rarely did she ever get to experience a potentially harmful situation on her own…when there were witnesses she felt obligated to jump immediately into superhero-problem-solving mode. But, now that she was on her own, she felt that she lacked the motivation to actually _problem solve_.

It was like stage fright. But the opposite.

It was only when the device started to make sound that Sam felt the need to _get up and get the hell away_. A deep rumble—that sounded incredibly incongruous to the teeny device—echoed across her lab and Sam jumped up, knocking over her stool in the process. Taking several quick steps backwards, her back hit the wall and her hand raised to smash against the 'emergency-emergency-the-base-is-in-danger-big-surprise' button, when the device suddenly just…stopped.

No sound, no sparks…nothing to indicate it was at all active. So Sam's hand paused just above that big red button and therein lies the mistake—certainly not the first of the day, but maybe the worst—that would ultimately lead to the greatest Valentine's Day of Sam's life.

Or the worst.

Depends on where you're standing.

The little bitty device shattered the momentary silence by beeping really, really loudly. Like dial up from the 90s. Or something else really irritating.

The single beep set Sam's teeth on edge and she immediately covered her ears; warning the base of impending disaster would simply have to wait. Then the little thing _exploded_. Really, it was a miniscule little pop of an occurrence. One second it was there and beeping and the next it had poofed into a little cloud of gold sparklies.

Quite pretty. As far as alien gold sparklies go.

Sam only had time to gasp before the little buggers were surrounding her, wrapping around her head and tickling her skin. She yelped and spun around, arms flapping about as she tried to rid her hair and eyes and mouth of the little misty beasts, but it was too late.

In less than a second, all the little beasties had disappeared; Sam prepared herself for the worst case scenario—they had been absorbed into her skin-, but hoped for the best—they had simply gone away, too weak to wreak any havoc.

She should have prepared harder.

A soft throat clearing from the door of her lab alerted her to the fact that she was very much not alone anymore. Squeezing her eyes shut briefly—_'please be Daniel, please be Teal'c, please be friggin' Siler'—_she reopened them to reveal one Jack O'Neill.

Of _course_.

If she had not already been hyperaware of her embarrassing situation, she sure as hell was now. But it was this hyperawareness that first clued her into the fact that something was terribly, horribly wrong.

Like orange jell-o wrong.

She just wished she could pinpoint _what_ exactly was wrong.

"Sam?" The man in her doorway questioned.

"Sir?" She questioned right back.

"Sir?" Surprise now evident in not just his voice, but his expression.

"Sam?" She countered, equally as surprised at his original address as she was his rebuttal of hers.

"What?" Confusion now as his eyebrows knitted together.

"What?" It was a mindless echo, a response that she didn't think about. She knew that eyebrow knitting…

"Sam, are you feeling okay? Maybe you should sit down. Where's your…?" His voice trailed as he looked around her lab, looking for the stool she'd knocked over only a minute ago.

"No, I'm fine." Sam waved his concern off as she studied his expressive face. Well, that's clearly what was wrong. His face was _expressive_. Like really, really expressive. Like Daniel-level expressive.

Like Daniel-level eyebrow knitting.

"Daniel?" The name stuttered on her tongue, her brain reeling. She was very clearly looking into the face of her commanding officer. And Daniel was very clearly not her commanding officer. So why did this apparition look so much like her commanding officer, but also like Daniel? Wait...now she was confusing herself.

"Ye-es?" His voice went up in a question as he approached her, hands raised slightly in a placating gesture. "I've been told I look different without my glasses, but geez, Sam, I expected a little more from you."

"Without your…" Sam shook her head violently and pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes until colors burst. "I don't understand."

Jack/Daniel huffed a laugh and then reached into his pocket and pulled out the familiar wire frames. "Thought I'd test myself; see how well I actually know the base." He placed them back on his nose and blinked owlishly at her.

If Sam hadn't been so confused, she would have laughed. Probably would have had to sit down from laughing so hard. But, as it were, she was too perturbed by her own inability to distinguish faces that she barely noticed her CO in Daniel's glasses. "Daniel…have you…I mean, when was…have you looked in a mirror lately?"

Now Jack—no, Daniel, no, wait—frowned at her with the start of worry. "No…" Looking around, he reached for the nearest reflective surface—her hibernating laptop—and reflexively touched his face as he looked it over. Replacing the computer, he raised an eyebrow at her expectant expression. "Trying to tell me I need a haircut? Or a shave?"

Sam shook her head mutely. He didn't seem at all disturbed that he had magically transformed into someone else! In fact, he hadn't reacted at all like he looked like—"Daniel, what did you see in my screen?"

Now worry had given way to actual concern. One more step and he'd be escorting her to the infirmary for sure.

"Uh, my…face? Sam?" Okay, a little panicky edge had entered his voice. Unfortunately for them both, either his answer or his fear finally broke Sam out of her stupor. It started with a grin, and then widened into a megawatt smile, then she dissolved into a little fit of giggles, which then broke down into big, heaving guffaws.

She couldn't breathe.

But she also couldn't stop.

Was this what a mental breakdown felt like?

Jack/Daniel—because what the hell, at this point—took a few steps towards her, glancing warily at the phone sitting on the table behind her. Sam saw the look and that sobered her momentarily; if she didn't pull it together, she would be locked up. Okay. Breathe.

She almost had her laughter under control when someone came striding swiftly into the room. A very familiar someone with a very familiar gold tattoo. Except, the someone and the tattoo were not familiar together and that sent Sam off even harder than before. Colonel O'Neill was Teal'c! Teal'c was Colonel O'Neill!

Haha…uh oh.

"Teal'c! Something's wrong with Sam, we need to get her to the infirmary." Daniel had cleared the remaining distance between them and firmly grasped Sam's upper arms. Or was it Jack? He shouldn't be touching her like that, people might see!

But that just made Sam laugh harder.

Jack/Teal'c swiftly crossed the room and assisted Jack/Daniel in getting Sam moving—out through the door, down the hallway, into the elevator. As the lift doors closed, Jack/Daniel turned to Jack/Teal'c and spoke over Sam/Sam's hiccups. "One of us should get Jack. Do you know where he is?"

Sam dissolved into hysterics again, but managed to gasp out. "Here…he's right here!"

The two others exchanged worried looks as the doors finally opened and they pulled Major Carter to the infirmary. Where several more Jacks waited.

Jack in a white coat with a stethoscope thrown casually around his neck. Jack in white scrubs. Lots of Jacks in white scrubs. Jacks in gowns. Jacks in beds. Jacks sleeping and Jacks checking charts. Jacks in every nook and cranny.

She was beginning to think in damn Seussian descriptors.

And then she wasn't thinking at all. One of the Jacks had pushed a needle unceremoniously into her arm and little black gnats were crawling up her eyeballs and stuffing her head with cotton.

Oh, she would _so _get him back for that.

**TBC**

**A/N: So, this started off as a drabble about a young SF asking Sam to be his Valentine. As you can see, that…disappeared. And this came out instead. Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!**


	2. Playfully Perturbed

**Chapter Two: Playfully Perturbed**

**A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry! Hope everyone had a wonderful Valentine's Day!**

**Enjoy!**

Sam's nose twitched.

The smallest of frowns creased her brow as she struggled to shed the last vestiges of sleep and open her eyes. Licking her lips, she took one more deep inhale—_definitely _coffee—and, telling herself that the smell of coffee had the same caffeine effect as drinking it, managed to open her baby blues.

Blinking balefully up at the grey concrete, Sam immediately realized that she was not in any of the places she expected to be in. Not her lab, not her quarters, not her house, not offworld…not even the commissary.

But that had only happened one time. What? It had been a long day.

"Major." The quiet voice startled her more than a shout would have.

"Sir!" Sam sat bolt upright, surprised when she didn't feel the pull of any IVs or hitherto machines. Instead, she pressed her lips together and desperately wished for some mouthwash.

"How are you feeling?"

Sam blinked a few times and then refocused on the speaker. Hm. Dress blues...okay. Two stars..also okay. The face on the neck on the shoulders wearing the stars and dress blues…not okay. "Sir?" That was not a squeak, that was _not_ a squeak…

"I asked how you were feeling." The face of Jack/General Hammond twisted into an expression of concern.

Sam felt the familiar urge to giggle bubble up in her throat and suddenly, it all came rushing back. She remembered why she was in the infirmary, she remembered the multiples of her superior, and she remembered that stupid device that was most likely responsible for all of this.

She also remembered it was Valentine's Day. But that was beside the point.

"Fine, sir." Sam smiled tightly, her mind racing. How was she supposed to tell him that everyone she looked at was her commanding officer? How was she supposed to explain that everyone's face was his? A man she wasn't even supposed to really _think_ about when she wasn't on a mission and now…

Well, that was it then. She would just have to live the rest of her life like this. Oh well.

It was going to make the women's locker room a little awkward though.

"…think of anything?" Sam snapped out of her mental picture-palooza and refocused on her superior officer.

"Sorry, sir?" Sam's frown deepened and she peripherally realized she was probably going to give herself wrinkles from this one conversation alone.

Jack/Hammond frowned, but saved her his reprimand. "I said, Doctor Jackson and Teal'c were quite concerned over your reaction earlier this morning. We were all wondering if you were aware of what could have caused it. Can you think of anything?"

"My reaction?" Did that come out a little higher than normal?

"Yes, Major? You don't remember?"

Realizing that if she played dumb it was only going to get her deeper into trouble, Sam cleared her throat and shook her head slightly. "No, sir, I apologize. I do remember."

"And?"

"And…" Sam hesitated. Could she really go on indefinitely only identifying different people by their clothes? What was she supposed to do in the field if she couldn't distinguish between people? Did that make her a liability?

Yes, fine, it did. But maybe she could just—_ugh, fine._

"And we have a problem, sir." Sam sighed, ignoring the little voice in her head telling her to shut the hell up.

"Okay, Major, walk me through it."

Wincing, Sam sat up a little straighter. "Well, sir, it was the device SG-11 brought back from their latest recon mission. Daniel thought it might be a communication device, some sort of remote "teleball.""

"And?"

"And it seems he was wrong. Sir," Sam paused and took a deep breath. "It seems to be more of a perception altering piece of technology, sir."

"Oh? And has it altered your perception?" Jack/Hammond's frown deepened.

"Yes, sir."

When it became apparent that Sam had no intention of continuing, he cleared his throat and fixed her with his best "General" stare. "Major, I'm running out of patience."

"Yes, sir." Sam thought about squeezing her eyes closed. If she couldn't see his reaction, maybe it wouldn't be so mortifying. "I'm seeing Colonel O'Neill, sir."

To his credit, the expression on Jack/Hammond's face didn't so much as waver. "Since when?"

"This morning, sir." Sam almost frowned, but managed to keep her face neutral.

"Then I'm going to chalk it up to alien influence and the two of you will report to my office as soon as you're released so that we can have an off the record conversation before making any decisions." Jack/Hammond nodded once and then turned to leave the room. He was stopped by Sam's half screech, half bellow.

"No, sir! No, no, no!" She was halfway out of bed by the time he turned back to her. "That came out wrong, sir. I'm not seeing, Colonel O'Neill, I'm _seeing_ him."

"Well, that cleared things up." He heaved a long-suffering sigh.

"No, I mean-," Sam cut herself off, taking a deep breath. "The device has altered my perception, sir. Everyone looks like Colonel O'Neill." Sam turned a pointed gaze on the general. "Including you, sir."

….

Sam sighed deeply and looked over at the no-longer-small doctor writing on a chart a few beds away. Not looking away, she sighed again. "Not going to happen, Sam." Sam scrunched her nose at Jack/Janet, who rolled her eyes in response. "If that even remotely worked on me Cassie would have two tattoos and a nose piercing by now."

Grunting in annoyance, Sam turned to look at the wall. At least that still looked like a wall and not her commanding officer. "I don't see why I have to stay here, Janet. It's not like I pose a threat."

"No, but you are seeing Colonel O'Neill's face everywhere and that's a little worrisome." She held two fingers sarcastically close together.

"Not just his face." It came out more groan-y than she intended.

_That_ caused Janet's eyebrows to shoot up. "Not just…? Everything?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Yes, Janet. Everything. All Colonel O'Neill."

"So I'm…?"

"Six foot two, yes, Janet." Sam rolled her eyes again when Jack/Janet beamed.

After a minute of silent gloating, Janet managed to collect herself and turned back to Sam. "Have you seen him yet? The real Colonel O'Neill, I mean."

Sam shook her head. "Nope. And I think it's probably better if I don't for the time being. He'll get way too much of a kick out of this."

"What, that of everyone, his is the face your brain chose to copy and paste?"

"Eloquent, really." Sam was about to say something else snarky when a throat clearing from the door distracted her.

"Carter."

Sam flinched and turned guarded eyes to the doorway. "Sir."

"Doc." Jack cocked his head towards Janet, but kept amused eyes on Sam.

"Sir." Man, it was weird having Janet address the Colonel while looking like said Colonel and using an honorific to denote—whoa. She was confusing herself again.

"Marco." The Colonel smiled sardonically, but before either Sam or Janet could answer with the 'Polo"—though neither of them had planned on it—he stepped fully into the infirmary. "A moment with the Major, Doc?"

"Yes, sir." Janet turned and threw Sam a discreet wink before retreating to her office. Sam just blinked.

Still weird.

"So, Carter, I hear you're seeing double."

Understatement of the century. "A little more than double, sir."

"Triple?"

"Sir."

"Double triple?" His eyes widened in mock astonishment.

Sam couldn't stop the grin that tugged at her lips. "Even more than that, sir."

"Whoa." He grinned back at her, his goal accomplished. Silly that his desire to make her smile made her feel so warm and fuzzy inside. As silly as a punch to the damned gut.

"I know." Sam scrunched her nose and settled herself back onto her pillows. "Daniel have any idea what that artifact really is?"

"Was, Carter. I hear you pulled a Houdini." Jack smirked a little as he pulled up a chair next to the bed.

"Unintentional." Sam held out a finger, remembering the accusatory way Daniel had looked at her when she'd explained what had happened. Hammond had just left, requesting that SG-1 do everything they could to figure out what exactly the object had done and how it could be reversed.

Not if.

There had been a distinct lack of wiggle room where it pertained to their success.

"Tomato, tomahto." They grinned stupidly at each other for a minute. "So, question."

"Answer."

"How'd you know it was actually me when I came in here?"

"The lack of glasses or a forehead tattoo were dead giveaways." Please drop it, please drop it…

"But I could have been one of a hundred other people." Jack tilted his head, watching her face carefully.

"Your uniform says colonel on it?"

"It does not." Jack gave a short bark of laughter. "Lying to your commanding officer is a serious offense, ma'am."

Sam felt her cheeks heat. For some completely inexplicable reason, the way he said "ma'am" sent shivers down her spine and into places that hadn't shivered for awhile. He narrowed his eyes at her and Sam panicked, knowing that at least some of what she'd just been thinking must have showed on her face. Before he had a chance to really analyze what he had seen, she spoke.

"You're the only one that calls me Carter." There. A half-truth.

"That's not true!" His eyes glittered mischievously when she shot him a "yeah, right" look. "Okay, so it's a little true. Took you awhile to catch on."

Sam's jaw dropped. "It did not!"

"Did so."

"Did not."

"Carter, I'm ordering you to agree with me. So there." He leaned back, a smug smile on his face.

"Oh, I see." Sam copied his expression, waiting for him to take the bait. She had missed this…this easy banter. It had been much too long since either one of them had let down their guards enough to joke with one another.

"You see?" Hook, line, and sinker.

"Did you _order_ a moratorium on my last name, sir?"

Jack grinned. "You got me. My deepest, darkest secret."

Sam had opened her mouth to send back a suitably snappy response, but all words died in her throat when she found that she really _really_ wanted to know what his actual deepest, darkest secret was. Shutting her jaw with a snap, she effectively cut off any words that would betray her cool, calm collectedness.

"Carter?" He leaned forward at her sudden self-shutting up. "Do I need to get Frasier?" 

"What? Oh, no, sir." Sam smiled wanly, then a little too brightly. "I'm fine."

"O-kay." He squinted at her and Sam had a weird shuddery feeling that he knew _exactly_ what had caused her tight-lipped response. "Anywho, Daniel's trying to scrounge up a picture of the device before you blew it up-,"

"I did _not_ blow it up."

"But he seems to think the effects are temporary." Jack continued as though she hadn't interrupted. "Why he thinks that, I don't know. But, it's situations like these where I hope he's right."

"Only like these, sir?" Sam bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Her colonel and Daniel argued over 'right' and 'wrong' much too often for this admission not to have cost him something.

"Specifically these, Carter."

"Ah."

"Can't have my Major getting all drooly around literally everyone, can I?"

_WHAT. _"What?" Sam's jaw dropped in what she was sure was an incredibly attractive manner.

"What?" He echoed, the picture of innocence.

"Sir, you just said-,"

"I'm sure I didn't say anything, Carter." His eyes twinkled and Sam was suddenly very afraid that this was not actually Colonel O'Neill but a cruel trick or nefarious plot. Maybe Kinsey had gotten word and taken advantage of…no. That was stupid. She knew this was the colonel because everything in her body had lit up like a Christmas tree when he'd walked in.

Which she'd never admit to anyone.

It wasn't just _looking _like the colonel…it was the whole package. The way he talked, the particular tilt of his head, his eyes…man, those eyes. Sam has never considered herself an "eyes" kinda girl, but something about Jack O'Neill's did some damn inappropriate things to her insides. No, she'd know those eyes anywhere.

"Helloo…Carter…" He waved his hand in front of her face and Sam snapped out of her dreamy-eyes induced reverie.

"Sir?"

"Are we sure this thing didn't do anything else to that big brain of yours?"

"Pretty sure, sir."

"Huh. Spacing out like that…I thought maybe the device had started to turn your brain into mine too."

"Too, sir?" Sam cocked her head, uncertain.

"Yeah, you know." He frowned and waved his hands vaguely. Clearly, even though she was supposed to "know" he had very little idea himself. "Not only are you "seeing" me, but now you have to think like me." He smiled proudly at the end of his little explanation.

"No, sir. I don't think that's the case." Though, god help the universe if there were to be two Jack O'Neill brains in it.

"Hm." He said, but clearly didn't feel the need to expound upon whatever was going on behind his eyes. Man, those eyes…"You're doing it again."

Sam blinked and snapped unceremoniously back to the present. "Sorry, sir."

Jack tilted his head and fixed his gaze directly on hers. "Oh, it's quite alright."

Sam felt her heart shoot straight into her throat and she promptly forgot how to breathe. Had he become a mind reader? Why was he being so uncharacteristically playful? Well, not _uncharacteristically _ exactly…he was like this to other people—just never to her. Well, not _never_ to her, but certainly ever before a couple of beers and definitely never on base. Sam felt her cheeks burn as he continued to study her, eyes never straying from hers.

This was not good, not good, not good at all. The silence stretched between them like taffy and the taffy temperature was rapidly dropping, soon it was going to crack, and when it did Sam was pretty sure that all that "regulations" nonsense was going to go out the window.

The smallest of smiles crinkled his eyes and Sam swallowed—hard. This was pure _torture_…and it seemed he knew it.

"Sam! Jack!" The sound of Daniel's excited voice shattered the taffy moment, but not in the way Sam had been expecting—nay, hoping.

Inhaling sharply, Sam pushed herself back against the pillows, too-wide eyes careening across the room and right into Daniel's. Out of the corner of her eye, she was displeased to see that the colonel hadn't reacted in a similar fashion at all. He had casually turned to the approaching archaeologist, not the slightest hint of a change in posture or demeanor.

Bastard.

"What, Daniel?" Oh, was there maybe the smallest note of annoyance in his tone?

Mentally, Sam upgraded him from bastard to jerk.

"I figured it out! I figured out what happened!" And with that, he bent over at the waist and burst out laughing.

**TBC**

**A/N: So sorry about the delay! I could not be motivated to write even a half-decent chapter, so I'm really sorry this is pretty junky. I tried, guys. One more chapter!**


	3. Love Bugs and Hot Dates

**Chapter Three: Love Bugs and Hot Dates**

**A/N: Thank you all for being so patient with me! I got a little more inspiration and this will not be the last chapter as previously stated. **

**Enjoy!**

"Excuse me?" Jack stared dumbfounded at the still-laughing archaeologist.

"A what bug?" Sam was pretty sure if her eyes got any wider they would pop right out of her face and land with a sexy splat on the pristine bed sheets. She tried to shut them, but only succeeded in half-narrowing her right one, giving her face what was very likely an "I'm having a stroke" look.

Right on par with eyeball splat sexy.

To his credit, Daniel managed a half-sincere wince. "Maybe it would be better if I could just talk to Sam?" He had tried that line in the beginning, but Jack had waved him off, quite intent on hearing whatever it was that had the younger man in stitches.

But Daniel had his suspicions. He was pretty sure Jack was just lazy and didn't want to get up.

"No way, Daniel." Jack shook his head briefly.

"Sir, maybe-," Sam started, most of her concentration going directly into keeping the warm flush threatening her cheeks at bay.

"Et tu, Brute?" He placed a hand over his heart and Sam glanced away, shooting a desperate look at Daniel. _'Daniel, I love you, you know I love you,' _Sam concentrated very hard, trying to communicate everything she was feeling at her friend. _'I think you're a brilliant diplomat and I am begging you, pleading with you to please, please, please not say anything until he leaves. Please. I know you know that this will be the death of me and I have every trust in you that—,'_

"Uh, Sam? Are you okay?" Daniel had abruptly stopped laughing and actually looked a great deal perturbed.

"What? Yes, fine, Daniel." She snapped. That had been some damn fine silent communication, definitely one of her best efforts, and he hadn't caught a word of it.

Probably thought she was constipated. Wonderful.

"O-kay." Daniel shifted, glancing between Sam and Jack one more time before shrugging. He was going to find out soon enough anyway, even if Daniel wasn't the one to tell him.

"So, I talked to Lieutenant Reames about the device and she managed to pull up a few pictures from the planet. It took longer than I'd hoped to cross-reference the symbols on it with anything that looked even remotely familiar to me. Turns out it's a weird hybrid between Sumerian and Ancient, which in itself is fascinating because it could mean a direct-,"

"Daniel." Both Sam and Jack spoke at the same time, though their reasons for cutting him off differed greatly.

Jack _really _wanted to get back to the aforementioned "love bug" situation.

Sam just wanted that kind of talk to stop coming from the facsimile of Jack's lips immediately. It was making her a little queasy.

"Right. Sorry." Daniel cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, the beginnings of another chuckle swirling around the base of his throat. "Ah, well, it seems that the object is like a compact …" He paused, searching for the right word. It wasn't an aphrodisiac—it didn't actually create an attraction… "interactive, I suppose…" Hm. He really was stumped. He probably should have thought his explanation through before running through the SGC like an excited little girl.

"We're aging, Daniel." Jack raised his eyebrows expectantly, two little words repeating themselves over and over; _love bug, love bug, love bug, definitely said love bug…_

"Well, like an ecard. But for your brain. Wait." He held up his hand unnecessarily. "Like an interactive mask. No." He raised his hand again. Man, twenty three languages and nothin'. "Like a really advanced, synthetic overlay that Sam's brain chose voluntarily."

Sam didn't like to toot her own horn or anything, but she was a pretty smart cookie. Like 'ate the whole batch' smart. And she only managed to grasp one word of that. "Voluntarily? Believe me, Daniel, I did _not_ volunteer for any of this."

Jack shot her an unreadable look before turning back to their friend. "Uh-huh. But I distinctly remember hearing something about-,"

"Jack." Daniel dismissed the older man airily, looking back to the perplexed woman in bed. "Consciously, no, you probably didn't. But subconsciously is a whole different story."

"Great." Sam groaned. If she had a nickel for every time some alien device was determined to bring her most embarrassing subconscious details to light she'd…well, she'd have a lot of nickels.

"Nearest I can tell, it was filled with some type of nanites. Nothing physically harmful." He added quickly, watching both of his friends tense automatically. "But they kind of sorted through your brain and well…it's like a metaphorically literal knot around your finger."

"Huh?" Sam and Jack said at the exact same time.

Jack whipped around to look at Sam shocked that, for once, she was following the spacemonkey _exactly_ as well as he was. "What?" He directed at her, briefly wondering if this was an apocalyptic thing; this whole 'confused Carter' whatwithall.

"What?" She asked defensively, eyes flying back and forth between Daniel and Jack.

"Guys." Daniel shook his head, suddenly weary. This had been funny in the beginning, but he'd failed with trying to articulate his findings, thoroughly confused both officers, and now they were doing that 'only two people in the whole world' staring crap and all Daniel really wanted was a damn cup of coffee.

But Janet had made him cut back on his caffeine consumption.

Stupid Janet.

Reflexively, Daniel glanced over his shoulder where he was suddenly sure the woman would appear. Lack of coffee made him lack of patience and Janet never seemed to accept that as an excuse. Instead she would just narrow her eyes and Daniel would know for certain that not only would he continue to lack in caffeine, but he would also now lack in sexy, fun times.

The only damn thing Valentine's Day was good for.

Now Daniel was just plain grumpy. "The nanites got in your head, read your preference for Jack, acknowledged your thoughts on today's particular date, and adapted to create a system that wouldn't let you forget or shove those thoughts aside. There. Also, it's probably temporary." He paused as he watched his words sink in, then just before anyone could rebuke him for being so blatant, he turned on his heel and left the infirmary.

And ran straight into Janet.

"Have any interesting thoughts lately?"

Daniel gulped. _Uh oh._

…

'_Why that little…'_ Sam pressed her lips together, jaw clenched, and forehead throbbing with anger increased blood flow. She was silently thankful for the small favor that she was not hooked up to a heart monitor; all the bells would surely be going off right about now.

"Particular date?" Jack was still staring at the spot where the archaeologist had been.

"Valentine's Day." Sam answered without thinking.

"Preference for?" Now he turned to look at her, expression indecipherable.

Sam blushed deeply, the words 'For you, sir,' pushing against the backs of her teeth. "I think Daniel's gone crazy, sir."

"Last I checked, you were the infirm one, Carter."

_Oh, hardy har._ "For _laughing_, sir."

Mature response. Almost check.

"Laughing at _my_ face, major."

"Your face _everywhere, _colonel."

"My face everywhere on Valentine's Day."

"I would have laughed even if it was Arbor Day."

"Ouch." His hand fluttered to his heart once more.

Sam only narrowed her eyes, studying his face. His veneer hadn't cracked, despite his joking tone. If only those little nanites could jump brains, then she'd know for sure what was going on behind those shuttered eyes. Did his eyes always twinkle like that when he teased her? Impossible, she definitely would have noticed before right then. Damn, they were like blackholes…

"Carter. I'm starting to develop a complex here." He waved his hand in front of her face as she startled.

It should be illegal to have eyes like that, she decided.

"Sorry, sir."

"Yes, well…" He let the sentence trail, his expression faraway.

Sam knew, ostensibly, that she should be mortified. Thanks to Daniel's incredibly inept and insensitive explanation, she'd basically just had her soul bared to the one person it really shouldn't have been bared to; barring General Hammond or the President, of course. And also her father. No soul baring ever to her dad.

Haha. No.

But, really, all Sam felt was a tad anxious.

And maybe a little hungry.

"Okay, well, now that I know you're gonna live…" Her commanding officer stood up, shaking Sam out of her billionth reverie—though this was the first not brought on by his eyes. "I guess I'll be off."

"Sir?" Sam cursed her stupid, spontaneous vocal chords.

"Carter?" He tossed a glance over his shoulder at her as he left, not stopping even when he saw the desperately confused look on her face.

He was nearly out the door and Sam knew with a sinking certainty that he wouldn't stop to wait for the cat to return her tongue. She felt rushed, there was so much she should say…so much she should clarify, yet none of those words came into her mouth.

"Plans, sir?"

"Oh, yeah." He didn't turn to look at her this time. "I got a hot date. Later, Major!"

Sam sat back, hands loosely gripping the blanket.

Well, then.

**TBC**

**A/N: Okay, so I lied and this is clearly not the end. Only one more chapter after this, thought! Thank you all so much!**


	4. These Flowers Smell Like Cliches

**Chapter Four: These Flowers Smell Like Cliches**

**A/N: Okay, so I thought of something relatively ironic today. If the series had ended with a definitive getting together of Sam and Jack there would not be nearly as many fanfics about them. Certainly not this long after the show. So…should I be grateful that I have been able to read so many creative fics…or forever bitter because I never got to actually see it on TV? Huh.**

**Enjoy!**

Sam blinked a few times, fighting the frown that was so valiantly trying to take hold of her brow. This whole day had been one very frustrating amalgamation of confusing, embarrassing, and coffeeless details. Sam blinked once more and looked around. Hopefully Janet hadn't seen the "coffee-jonesing" written on her face—she wasn't as bad as Daniel, but it was getting there.

And after a day like today, all coffee on base was in danger.

Man, she was gonna drink so much of it. And it was gonna be _so _good.

Yes. That was definitely what she needed right now. A nice cup of hot coffee. Hot, hot coffee. Hot, hot date…

What.

The frown that she had been so successfully fending off finally won. Well, if she got wrinkles at least there would be a clear culprit to blame…her commanding officer. That man…if he thought he was getting a good Christmas gift this year, he was in for a sore surprise.

A small, evil smile curled her lips and Sam belatedly wondered just what her face might look like at that moment as the frown she had fought and lost to had not vacated its spot on her brow. Clearing her throat, she wiped all expression from her face before anyone could see her looking all confusedly evil.

Sam was saved from further wrinkle-inducing thought when the sound of footsteps reached her ears. She was half-inclined to hope that it was the colonel, returning with a cup of hot coffee and a reasonable explanation as to how he mixed up the words 'coffee' and 'date.' Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, it was not Colonel O'Neill or an unlikely explanation. It was Janet.

Wait.

Holy _Hannah_.

It was _Janet_.

"Janet!" Sam almost fell right out of the bed.

"That's what they tell me I'm called." The smaller woman smiled distractedly as she looked over her clipboard.

"No! You're Janet!" This time, Sam managed to _un_tangle her blankets before standing up.

Janet looked up, her smile widening a tiny bit, but a frown creasing her forehead. _Oooh, so that's what that looks like_.

"Sam? You feeling okay?"

"Yes! I mean," Sam adopted a less enthused look and deepened her painfully high voice. "Yes. I'm fine. Better than fine. You're you!"

Understanding dawned on her friend's face. "That's great, Sam! Wait," Suspicion replaced realization. "Are you sure? You're not just saying that to get out of the infirmary?"

"No, Janet, I promise, I see you. All five feet of you." Sam laughed as Janet shot her a withering stare.

"Careful. I might just decide to run a few more tests."

"Sorry." Sam cleared her throat and looked down in her best impression of proper chastisement.

"Forgiven." Janet beamed. "So what did he do?"

"What did who do?"

"The colonel. How did he piss you off?"

Sam narrowed her eyes. "What?"

Now it was Janet's turn to narrow her eyes. "Sam?"

"Yes?"

"You just said that I was me again."

"Yes."

The silence stretched between them as Janet looked at Sam and Sam looked at Janet, so Janet frowned and Sam pulled the unflattering gown closed over her bum. "Sam?"

"Still yes."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Oh, he didn't tell you." Looking suddenly uncomfortable, Janet backed up a few paces. "Uh, I mean," she looked suddenly over her shoulder. "What? Oh, coming!"

"Oh, no you don't!" In a few long strides, Sam was across the room and blocking Janet's dramatic exit. "Who didn't tell me what, Janet?"

"Sam, I really have to go, I have patients…" Janet trailed when Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly uninterested in the health and welfare of the damaged and broken. "Daniel. Daniel didn't tell you."

"Daniel didn't tell me what?"

"Daniel didn't tell you that this whole thing would be fixed once he made you mad."

"Once who made me mad? The colonel?"

"Yes. Daniel didn't tell you that this whole thing would be fixed once the colonel made you mad." Janet had adopted a very condescending tone. If she could have reached, Sam was positive the doctor would have patted her on the head.

"Why the hell wouldn't Daniel tell me that?" Honestly, that seemed like a pretty important detail to leave out.

"He probably figured that it would happen soon enough on its own. If he told you, you might be suspicious of everything the colonel said and instead of being mad, you might blow it off as an attempt to make you mad." There. That made sense, right?

"Well, that's just not…" Sam paused. "No, actually that sounds _exactly_ like something Daniel might think."

Janet smiled tightly.

Sam squinted at Janet.

"Oh, fine, shut up, yes." Janet rolled her eyes and side-stepped her friend. "Glad your brain is back."

Sam watched her go, shaking her head slightly. Honestly, the only way this day could get any weirder was if Teal'c suddenly showed up with a box of chocolates and some red glitter. Sam's eyes widened at the thought and she looked quickly around for any festive Jaffa.

Coast clear. Cool.

Now to find some clothes…

…..

Sam scrutinized every person she passed in hallway, looking for some hint that her CO's face was not totally erased. So involved was she in making sure she _didn't _see any similarities, that she almost yelped out loud when she came face to face with, well, his face.

"Sir!"

"Or is it?" He smirked, reaching out to hold the elevator doors open for her.

"Funny." Sam stepped over the metal threshold and glanced at the numbers, wondering where he was headed. None of the buttons were pressed. Huh.

Jack pressed the level for Sam's lab and leaned against the cool elevator wall. "Ah, but I didn't give myself away this time."

"Sir?"

"I didn't call you anything."

"Oh. Right." Sam opened her mouth to tell him that she was cured and everything was back to normal, but the words just wouldn't come. Instead, she said, "Woman's intuition, I guess."

"Right." Sam caught him giving her a quick onceover.

"You know, seeing as I _am_ a woman, colonel."

"Yes. You are."

Sam glanced at him sharply. She had never heard his tone be less readable. Seriously, a robot probably had a more emotive voice. "Carter?"

She had no idea why, but she was suddenly very nervous. The small elevator felt even smaller. "Sir?"

"Flowers for Valentine's Day…too cliché?"

"What?"

"For that hot date I was telling you about."

Sam's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as the doors opened and he stepped off, as casually as if he'd just told her it was a balmy seventy-five degrees outside. She was still standing there when his hand stopped the doors from closing for a second time.

"Uh, Carter? This is your floor." He was smirking.

Damn the man.

**TBC**

**A/N: Just a quick update because I don't think I'll have time later. Thank you guys for reading!**


	5. Of Class and The Glitterati

**Chapter Five:Of Class and The Glitterati  
**

**A/N: So this update is thanks to narellew68 whose staunch nagging, uh I mean, **_**encouragement**_** always brings a smile to my face! Thank you!**

**Enjoy!**

Kill him. She was going to straight up murder the man smirking at her from across her lab. He had just spent the last ten minutes using her as a sounding board to bounce his silly, girly Valentine's ideas off of. Sam was a fair woman; she knew that she had no claim over the crazy sexy—okay, right now, she was mad so he was just crazy—man in front of her, but he wasn't a total idiot. Not all the time anyway.

He knew that she had a weak spot for him, just like _she_ had thought _he_ had a weak spot for her. Turns out, not so much. So Sam felt pretty justified in her murderous thoughts. It was pretty damn insensitive of him to be—practically—gushing about all these plans and ideas he had for another woman right to her face!

Sam had already run the gamut of noncommittal responses ranging from "uh-huh's" to plain old grunts. Yet the man had not run out of steam. If anything, her obvious (aggressive) disinterest just seemed to egg him on, his ideas getting wilder and his smirk even smirkier.

What? That's a word.

"No, no, _wait_. I've got it!" He held up his pointer finger to the ceiling, like he was physically trying to show her the lightbulb so clearly blinking above his head.

"Uh huh." Back to square one with the creative responses.

"What I need is something low-key, but classy."

Sam almost flinched. Did he just say classy? In a sentence? Colonel Jack O'Neill?

"Not some trumped up, glitterati type thing."

Now, Sam did flinch. Glitterati? Who the hell was this living, breathing copy of her colonel?

"No, definitely something quiet. But unexpected."

He lapsed into a thoughtful silence and Sam took the opportunity to glance up at him from under her lashes. Maybe she wasn't as cured as she thought. There was no way this teen-talking man in front of her was the hardass, badass, jackass officer she knew.

Except he hadn't left her sight since she'd run into him in the hallway. And, all that seeing is believing stuff aside, she _knew_ it was him the same way she knew a goa'uld was a goa'uld. Like some sort of forbidden love naquadah.

Sam snorted.

Then grimaced. That had definitely not been a mental snort. Glancing up, she grinned guiltily when her scheming commanding officer shot her an affronted look. "Something funny, Carter?"

_Oh, so much._ "No, sir."

"No, please. If you think my plans are so funny, you come up with something better." Jack crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

_Ha! No way._ "Fine. You want to do something special for Valentine's Day? First, find the right woman."

"Done."

"Second," She continued, ignoring both him and the rusty barbed wire snaking its way around her heart, "You should pick chocolate or flowers, not both, and definitely not chocolate flowers."

"Hey, I like those."

"Third," She shot him a glare that used to work all the time on Cassie, but had recently become impotent. Sam was glad to have another victim, ah, _subject_ to use it on. "Restaurants are nice, but they're going to be filled with people and it's way too easy for a date to devolve into a competition with other couples." That word—_couples_—made her stomach do a loop-de-loop worthy of Six Flags. "Picnics are easier, cheaper, and more intimate."

"It's Colorado, Carter. In February."

Sam narrowed her eyes and quite clearly communicated her meaning: _do you want my help or not?_

"And fourth, under no circumstances are you to ever use the word glitterati again. Especially on a date. On Valentine's Day." Sam nodded her head solemnly, her piece said and her good deed for the day, the week, the year, the rest of her frickin' life, done.

"Was that an order, major?" He was smirking again and his cocky posture was definitely not making her wish she was the girl he was talking about. Nope. Definitely didn't care.

Sam didn't deign to respond. She had given him what he wanted, so now he would finally—

"Thanks a lot, Carter. I owe ya one." He hopped off the stool that had been so nicely cradling his—erm, nothing, nevermind. "Now, if you'll excuse me." Then, without waiting to actually be excused, he left.

Huh. Unexpected. And definitely unwanted. Him leaving was all fine and dandy when _she _was thinking it, but who was he to decide that he could actually leave?

'_Whoa, Sam.'_ She cleared her throat and looked around to make sure no one with mind-reading capabilities was lurking in the shadows. _'That was a little too murder-y.'_ Blowing out a breath that ruffled her bangs, Sam wondered if this day could get any weirder.

So, really, the rest of the day was entirely her fault.

…

"Major Carter!" His voice was way too cheery for this time of the—Sam glanced at her watch blearily—afternoon. Oh. "Those nanites finally make you like sleep?"

"Nanites are gone, sir." Struggling to shake the last vestiges of sleep, Sam stretched, wincing as cramped muscles unbunched.

"That a fact, Carter?"

If she could have, she would have glared at him. As it were, her eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each, so she settled for frowning somewhere in his general direction. Sam had given up the fight against the inevitable frown. Valentine's 200-and whatever year this was seemed determined to wrinkle her face prematurely. "Yes, sir. Janet called me a little while ago." Had it really only been forty five minutes?

"Well, that's good." He shifted his feet slightly and filled up even more of her doorway, if that was even possible. Why in the world was that so sexy? _'Stop it!'_Sam mentally berated herself, while simultaneously grateful for the thought as the surprise of it had caused her eyes to snap open. "Listen, I hate to bother you-,"

'_Yeah, right.'_ Sam almost snorted, but stopped herself at the last second, remembering the last time she'd done that.

"—But Daniel said that Reynolds mentioned that Siler was looking for you."

Taking a minute to pick apart that train of thought, Sam finally sighed and then nodded. "Probably about the relay issues we've been having in the secondary and tertiary generators."

"Yes. Probably." Pulling a face, he gestured to the hallway. "After you."

Closing up the laptop that had already put itself into hibernation mode and, after making a mental note to make sure her drooling hadn't damaged anything internal later, left her lab with her colonel in tow. When they got to level 28, they were separated when Sam was waylaid by an out of breath Doctor Frasier.

"Sam! Hey, I'm glad I ran into you!"

"Janet, is something wrong?" Taking in her friend's flushed face and harried air, she frowned. "The nanites-,"

"No, no, you're fine." Janet waved her hand. "No, it's my," Glancing around and lowering her voice, she took Sam by the elbow and began dragging her down the hall. "It's my dress! I bought it specifically for tonight-,"

"For your date with Daniel."

"—and I don't know what happened! I haven't even touched it and now I have nothing to wear-,

"I'm sure Daniel will be devastated."

"—but maybe you can fix it!" Janet finished, not even bothering to shoot Sam dirty looks for her interruptions. Pushing Sam into the elevator and pressing level 25 four times in rapid succession, leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.

Raising skeptical eyebrows, Sam stood awkwardly in the corner. "Um, Janet, I don't know anything about dresses and Siler needs me to-,"

"This is bigger than Siler, Sam." Janet looked at her, deadly serious.

"Ah, o-kay." Following the smaller woman down the hallway and into the medical personnel locker rooms, she wondered just how the hell she was supposed to fix the stupid dress. She was an astrophysicist, not a seamstress.

"Here." Janet shoved the tissue paper-covered fabric at Sam.

"Here?"

"Put it on. I can't explain what's wrong with it, you have to see it." Janet rolled her eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Put it-? Jan, you're a foot shorter than me and like three sizes-,"

"Stop whining and do it. I have to meet my date-,"

"Daniel."

"—in less than thirty minutes!" Ignoring Sam's sniggered remark again, she pushed the other woman towards the changing rooms. "Wait!"

"But you just told me to-!"

"I changed my mind. You need to see how I'm going to do my hair and makeup first. What if the dress is all wrong anyway!" Janet wailed, so close to tears that Sam actually started to feel glad that she didn't have a date this Valentine's. Way too much hassle.

"Okay, fine. Show me." Sam let herself be lead to the mirrored area of the room.

"Um, could I maybe experiment on you first?"

"Janet!"

"You can wash it off right after!" She swung Sam around to face her. "Please, Sam? I know you think it's funny, but tonight is really important to me."

'_I will not give in, I will not give in, I will not bow to puppy dog eyes-,'_ "Okay, _fine_." Sam huffed. "I don't wanna know details, but he'd better be worth it."

"Oh, he is." Janet waggled her eyebrows and despite her sudden, very explainable urge to throw up, Sam laughed.

…..

"Wow, Sam." Janet stood back and admired her quick work. Sam's already huge blue eyes looked even huger and bluer with the steel grey shadow and black kohl smudged around her lashes. She'd dusted some light rose colored blush onto Sam's cheekbones and then swiped some chapstick onto her lips. The eyes were definitely the statement feature, no need to overdo it. "Now try on the dress."

"I'd rather take this stuff off first." Sam looked at herself in the mirror and, while she had to admit that Janet might have missed her calling as a makeup artist to the stars, she really wasn't allowed to wear this stuff on duty. Though—Sam pulled a dramatic face, narrowing her eyes and pouting her lips—she now understood _why_ women weren't allowed to wear excessive makeup. It was definitely too distracting.

But not for the guys. She was having just a little too much fun making faces at herself.

"No, no, no." Janet shook her head so hard her hair slapped her in the face. "I have to see the whole thing together."

"Janet, you have to leave in ten minutes! It took you twenty to do this to _my_ face and hair, how the hell are you going to get yourself done in half that?" Sam managed to tear her eyes from the multitude of faces she was pulling in the mirror. It was fun to watch her eyes move about under all that black shine.

"Well, I won't be able to if you keep stalling me! And don't mess up your hair!" She called threateningly as she pushed Sam into the changing rooms, paper wrapped dress and all. She hadn't really done much to Sam's hair, just brushed it until it was smooth and lustrous and fell in swoops instead of her usual piecey style.

"You so owe me."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Daniel, too. He definitely owes me. Like bringing me coffee whenever I want for a month owes me. Like, like, not insisting on talking to _all_ the natives owes me. Like not always having to look at ruins in the middle of bum-fu—Janet." Sam's abrupt change in tone nearly caused the other woman to lose what little self control she had left.

"Sam?"

"There's nothing wrong with this dress."

"Of course there is, Sam."

"You know what? You're right. There is something wrong." Sam whipped aside the curtain and regarded Janet coldly. "This dress would never fit you in a million years."

"Sam-," Janet stood slack-jawed as she took in her suddenly elegant friend.

"In fact, it would never fit you so hard that you never would have even bought it." Sam crossed her arms across her fabric-covered chest. The pale blue dress was the exact color Sam would have described as "cornflower" or some other equally girly word. Its high neckline swooped into a midi circle skirt, swirling at the top of her calves, while the sleeveless style showed off her toned arms. It was modest, but modern and Sam would be damned if she _ever_ admitted that she liked it.

Okay, loved it.

Dammit.

"It was on sale?"

"Can it, Janet." Haha…that rhymed.

"Well, here, since you're already wearing it." Janet thrust a pair of grey flats at her supposedly unwilling friend. "And, you look amazing by the way."

"Gee. Thanks." But Sam didn't move to take the flats. Instead, she stepped back into the changing room. "I don't know what you're trying to pull, but I'm not playing anymore."

"No, Sam, don't take it off!" Janet sighed with all the force of an overworked mother and rolled her eyes.

"Stop it. This isn't funny anymore." Sam was angry, really angry actually. If Janet had set her up on a blind date thinking that poor, desperate Sammy would just play along, well, she had another think coming.

"Don't take it off, Sam." The new voice caused Sam to stiffen, hands stilling on the zipper.

"This is a women's locker room." Her voice came out flat, the sheer amount of confusion coursing through her making it hard for her to feel anything else.

"I have permission." There was a smile in his voice and at Janet's answering laugh, Sam scrunched her face in friendly disgust before whipping open the curtain again.

"Daniel, are you admitting to having a hand in this? Because, if you are, so help me there will not be a safe planet for you to hide on." Sam cocked her eyebrow, but refrained from crossing her arms again. She didn't imagine there was much she could do to look threatening in this dress.

"Wow, Sam." Daniel echoed his girlfriend's earlier words. "I mean, you look, ah…" He trailed and glanced guiltily at Janet.

"I'm not even mad. That's my handiwork." Janet smirked, then linked her arm through Daniel's. "Look at our girl; she's all grown up!"

Sam felt her cheeks color and she muttered, "Shut up." It was prom all over again. And Sam _never_ wanted to relive that night…even if the 'Winter Wonderland' decorations had looked really pretty reflecting the orange light of the fire. Accidental, of course.

They should never have put the science labs next to the gym. Rookie move.

"You two had better hope there's a galactic emergency in the next thirty seconds or I'm going to-,"

"Yeah, yeah." Daniel waved his hand, unconcerned with her posturing. "We're late." He paused. "Where are your shoes?"

Sam, who had long since figured out this was one huge set up, narrowed her darkly lined eyes at her "friends." "What's in this for you, Daniel?"

His expression didn't shift. "Do you _really_ want to know?"

For approximately the sixty-third time that day, Sam had to swallow the urge to revisit her breakfast. "You two are awful. In fact, that's the only reason I need not to go along with this obvious blind date set up."

"The only reason?" They both smirked at her.

"I said the only reason I need, not the only one I have."

"Yeah, well, it's not a blind date." Daniel turned towards the door, tugging Janet with him before turning back and giving Sam the most condescending look she'd ever seen grace his features. "And, please put on your shoes, Sam. We don't want him to think you were raised in a barn."

"Hey!" Sam shouted, but they were already out the door. Well, fine. This was they wouldn't yell at her for the hand gesture she sent their way.

Not that she would care if they did.

"I'm a grown ass woman, dammit." Sticking her tongue out at the closed door, she stubbornly plopped herself down on the bench and glared resolutely at the wall. She was definitely not putting on those shoes. And she was most certainly not going on that blind…wait. Not a blind date. Daniel had said _not_ a blind date.

So she knew the guy?

If anything that made it worse. She didn't _like_ any of the guys she knew. Well, except one. But that didn't even matter because he was most certainly not the guy waiting for her to put on the damn shoes. Besides, she didn't like him anymore.

The douche.

But, Sam could not ignore the small bubble of hope that had swelled in her chest. What if…what _if _it was him that was waiting for her to exit the locker room? What if all that pestering and prodding and smirking had been a ruse, a front, a game?

What if it had been him all along?

Damn that bubble of hope. It was getting larger.

Throwing her hands in the air and grumbling largely out of obligation instead of actual inconvenience, Sam pulled on the shoes and gave herself a cursory onceover in the mirror. Okay. So she looked fine. Good, even.

Really, really good.

Whatever.

Stomping over to the door, she paused before turning the handle. She could feel every muscle in her body singing with tension, that swelling bubble getting bigger and bigger, until finally she yanked open the door and—

-her bubble burst.

There, holding an unobtrusive box—undoubtedly filled with chocolates- was Lieutenant Graham Simmons.

**TBC**

**A/N: So this was gonna be the last chapter, I swear. But this was such a good place to leave it…**


	6. Pizza, Pie, and Wine

**Chapter Six: Pizza, Pie, and Wine—But Not A Beer In Sight**

**A/N: Man, this was so fun to write. I hope you guys had as much fun reading it as I had writing it!**

**Enjoy!**

Sam's face reacted automatically, good manners taking over. A blinding, if not stiff, smile pulled at the corners of her mouth; though, try as she might, it wouldn't reach her eyes. "Lieutenant."

"Uh, major." He smiled and shifted nervously, eyes dropping to look at her dress, then shooting back up…then down at her legs, then back up…then down at her shoes, then back up…it was like he was watching a yoyo. "H-happy, um, Valentine's D-d-day."

"And right back at ya." Sam grimaced. "Sorry. Um, Happy Valentine's Day, Lieu—Graham."

Behind him, Janet and Daniel grinned flagrantly like the proud parents they most certainly were not. Taking the arm that Graham offered, she let him pull her away from the safety of the locker room and towards the elevator. "Stop." Sam snapped quietly as they passed the other couple.

"Have fun!" Janet called, smirking at the way the lieutenant's neck colored.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Daniel's wave could have been pictured in the dictionary next to the word 'blasé.'

The smile Sam shot them over her shoulder would have smited even the toughest goa'uld.

….

Graham led her out through the various checkpoints and out into the winter sunset. Sam was grateful that he'd at least let her stop by SG-1's locker room so she could grab her leather jacket. It wasn't the warmest jacket she had on base, but she'd been hoping to run into the man who'd been the bane of her existence for the last day or so.

Half because she wanted him to see that he wasn't the only one with a date this Valentine's…and half because she wanted him to see her in the dress.

But, _of course_, he wasn't around when she actually wanted him to be.

So now she was going to freeze and she hadn't even accomplished her goal: make O'Neill jealous. Damn.

When they reached the parking lot, Graham tugged on her arm to stop her and handed her the little red box. "Open it." He said, smiling gently.

"Um…okay." Sam tried to smile back, but the massive one she'd pasted on her face back in the mountain seemed to have pulled a couple of facial muscles. She pulled the lid off, expecting chocolates, and instead saw a little slip of paper. Paper that seemed to have been hastily torn off a larger sheet…was that part of the SGC letterhead in the corner? "Like I said, unexpected." She read out loud, confusion narrowing her eyes.

She looked up, intending to ask Graham just what that was supposed to mean, but he was gone. In fact, the SGC parking lot was gone too, replaced with gently waving grass, a glassy lake, and sweet-smelling air. The warm sunset sent sparkling shafts of red and gold over the water's smooth surface and Sam gasped, marveling at the scenic beauty before her.

"I never knew you were such a romantic, Carter."

She whirled, miraculously managing not to fall feet over head into the soft grass. There, standing under a huge shade tree, was her colonel.

He was wearing boots, faded blue jeans, a _very_ sexy liquid cotton black tee, all topped off with a black unbuttoned button-down—sleeves rolled up to his elbows. No one could have blamed Sam for the way her jaw dropped as she appraised him, nor the funny feelings it stirred low in her belly. _Very _low.

"S-sir?" '_Oooh, very intelligent.' _Inner Sam mocked.

"Or is it?" He quirked his eyebrow at her in exactly the same manner as he had when he asked the same of her earlier in the elevator.

Sam didn't have a response to that, so she settled for staring. Looking him up and down…and up and down…and up…now she was following the damn yoyo. "I…I, um…" Sam took a deep breath. "I don't understand, sir."

"No…no, I don't suppose you would." He smirked at her and Sam felt her insides melt. But only a little bit. Really. "Not yet, anyway." He stepped out from under the shade of the tree and into the blazing rays of the setting sun. His silver hair was gilded in the soft light, but not even the sun was warmer than the look in his eyes.

"This…you…we…I _really_ don't understand." She almost laughed, but the heat in his gaze pretty much made anything other than staring and stuttering impossible.

He laughed, one of those real, genuine Jack O'Neill ones that were far too infrequent. Tucking his long fingers into his pockets, he indicated the tree behind him with a tilt of his head. "Then it'll be my distinct pleasure to enlighten you. C'mere." He reached out with one hand, palm upturned, and a small, inviting grin played across his lips.

Sam stood in shocked, open mouthed silence for another half-second before her feet were carrying her forward and her arm was lifting, hand fitting firmly into his. They stood facing each other for a few silent moments, Sam's mind a whirlwind of thoughts, but Jack was all solid tranquility. "You look beautiful."

Sam swallowed at the rough quality in his voice and felt her cheeks heat; she was sure her temperature was now hotter than any sun, including the one she'd supernova'ed. His eyes were molten in the light from the setting sun and Sam decided that if this moment were to just freeze here forever…she couldn't be happier. "Thank you. You do too." At his teasing smirk, she rolled her eyes. "Handsome. You look very hot." Sam's jaw snapped shut. She had definitely meant to repeat the word handsome.

His smirk grew. "Oh, yeah?"

Sam glared at him.

"If I had known you were this easy to please, major, I'd've beamed you away a long time ago."

"Yeah, well, maybe you should have." So, he'd had her beamed away, huh? Thor was so gonna get it next time she saw him.

He lightly stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. "Follow me."

She barely kept herself from swooning and saying, "anywhere." She was a damn major in the United States Air Force, not Rachel Mc-frickin-Adams in some sap-soaked movie. So she said nothing and followed him around the tree where she spied a large blanket and—surprise of all surprises—a picnic basket.

"You…I…this…" Her free hand fluttered helplessly. "You tricked me!"

"Not as hard as I thought it was gonna be."

"Hey!" Her light smack to his arm made him grin, but instead of responding he tugged her over to the blanket and then down onto it. "I can't believe you did this."

"I can't believe you fell for the thing with Simmons." He raised his eyebrows at her as he set about pulling their dinner from the basket.

Sam narrowed her eyes. "I can't believe you managed to keep this a secret."

"And I can't believe you're still wearing that jacket in this heat." He watched her eyes widen as she was caught off guard and felt his whole body tingle when she let out a short, surprised laugh.

"Touche." Sam shrugged out of the offending object and pretended not to notice the way his eyes traveled along her exposed arms.

"I knew I was right about the dress." He grabbed the last thing—a bottle of white wine—out of the basket.

Wide blue eyes shot to his. "What?"

"What?" He quirked a little smile, but kept his attention focused on the set up of the food.

"_You_ got the dress?"

"Well, I set up everything else, didn't I?" Sam sat back and just stared at him. "Stop that." His eyes flicked to hers and then quickly away again. "Seriously, Sam." But the smile in his voice took away any order from his tone.

"Sam…" She cocked her head at him, silky hair blowing across her forehead.

Now he did meet her eyes. "That's your name isn't it? 'Cause if not, that's embarrassing."

Sam grinned. "Just not used to hearing you say it."

Tugging open the Tupperware container, he shrugged one shoulder. "I thought it would be a little awkward to pull rank on a date."

"Is that what this is?"

"Is that what you want it to be?" He shot back.

Sam leaned back and surveyed him. Grinning again, she indicated the food. "Pizza?"

"Problem?" He tugged the container towards him. "Fine, more for me."

"Nice try." She reached forward, intent on stealing a slice, but he was faster. Intercepting her thieving fingers, he wrapped his large hand around hers.

"Answer the question, Carter."

"Carter? You're sending mixed signals, _sir_." But no amount of false bravado could hide the way her heart was suddenly in her throat.

"You like it." His eyes burned into hers. "Don't make me make it an order."

That should _not_ have been a turn on. In no way should that have been a turn on.

But it _so_ was.

"Doesn't really matter what I want, does it?" When her only answer was a slight stiffening in his expression, she pressed on. "As far as I know, the Air Force is still against personnel fraternization and, as far as I know, we're still Air Force."

"That it is. And that we are."

"So then how can this be anything other than a completely unromantic lakeside picnic between good friends and coworkers?"

"I guess it can't."

"Then you would've brought beer instead of wine."

The slightest frown creased his brow. "How do you figure?"

Sam really didn't have a good answer for that. It was the same way she always knew when he entered a room, nanites or no nanites. "I know you." She half-shrugged.

Jack paused, fiddling with the container of apple pie he'd also brought. "What if I told you that before your little magic act I had a long talk with Hammond?"

"Then I'd say it wasn't a magic act and about what?" Sam used her free hand to finally snag a slice of pizza, eyes never leaving his suddenly unfathomable ones.

"About our futures with SG-1."

If her heart beat any faster, it would probably explode. "And?"

"And…they still lie with SG-1."

"Both of us?"

"Yep."

"Then I still don't understand."

Jack laughed low in his chest. "I can see that. How's the pizza? Not too cold?"

"Perfect." Sam answered distractedly. "Feel like explaining?"

"See, there this thing called a microwave-,"

"Sir."

His eyes softened. "Point is, you don't have to call me sir, anymore. If you don't want to." He added.

"I'm sure I can find occasions." Sam's eyes widened. Where the hell had that come from and how the hell had she let it come out of her mouth?

Jack took a slow bite of his pizza, before he grinned, still chewing. "I'm sure I could help."

Sam suppressed a shrill, nervous giggle. "That doesn't answer my original question."

"The general and I worked it out. You're still on SG-1, but you'll be on loan from Area 51 as a research consultant."

Uh, what? "Uh, what?"

"Don't worry, you won't ever actually have to _go_ to 51 if you don't want to…but your direct superior will be Hammond." Jack watched her closely, waiting for the pieces to fall into place.

"Hammond?"

"Yep."

"Not you?"

"Right."

"Area 51?"

"Correct." Jack grinned broadly. Very rarely was he ever in the position to hold cards that the incomparable Major Samantha Carter did not have.

"And when did you do this?"

"Last month—hey!"

Sam grinned, having turned the tables quite adeptly and advertently. "Hey yourself." She pushed herself onto her knees and scooted closer to him, ostensibly to read his expression better.

"Don't you dare say it." Jack warned, releasing her hand to waggle a finger in front of her face.

"You've gone soft." She grinned as he grimaced. "You've been planning for a whole month-,"

"Don't-,"

"—and you still had to have me come up with the idea?"

"Haha." He rolled his eyes, but threw her a lazy smirk. "I believe I've mentioned your penchant for pulling them out of your-,"

"Jack."

He cocked his head at her. "Sam."

"I didn't come all the way from Area 51 to have you yak the whole night."

A long minute passed as his eyes searched her face, making sure he understood her correctly. He had a bad habit of not always understanding her. Mostly because he had a bad habit of not paying attention when she technobabbled and instead just watching her lips move. "No." He spoke slowly. "No, I guess you didn't."

He leaned forward, inch by glacial inch, and Sam swallowed hard—her eyes darting from his eyes to his mouth and back again. At the last second, just as Sam was sure she'd die of anticipation, his hand shot up and he took another big bite of his pizza.

Sam laughed then, loud and long, throwing her head back as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon and streaked the heavens with purple and indigo. Jack felt rooted to the spot as he watched her, the long column of her neck pale in the twilight, and her fingers tight around his as she squeezed his non-pizza holding hand. Finally, she calmed herself enough to look back at him, eyes sparkling. "You forgot something, you know."

"But ,did I?" He didn't ask for clarification as he reached into the basket without looking and pulled out the twin to Simmons' box. Though, Sam knew it had never actually been the lieutenant's. "It's not Valentine's without chocolate, right?"

"Right." Sam nodded seriously before another smile spread across her face. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to stop smiling. "This is good."

"It is?" He looked at her intently, heart slamming against his ribs as he waited for an affirmation that seemed to take forever.

"Yeahsureyoubetcha." Leaning across the foot that separated them, Sam pressed her lips to his and felt his answering smile.

Twisting gracefully, he dipped her, keeping her back from the ground by wrapping a strong arm under her shoulders. She laughed against his mouth and Jack O'Neill was sure he'd never felt something so wonderful in all his life. After a long moment of slow exploration, Sam pulled back, head turning slightly to glance at his hand. He was still holding his pizza.

Following her gaze, he smirked at her. "I'm a man of many talents."

"Clearly." Sam rolled her eyes and kissed him again.

As the stars twinkled above them in the gathering dark, Sam Carter relished in the attentions of the one man that should never have wanted to give them to her. The only man that she would ever _want_ to give them to her.

"Wait, so you made me wait a whole _month_?"

Jack just grinned.

**END**

**A/N: Thank you all so much! This was a sappy installment, but it made me smile, so I hope you do the same!**


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